hrrrmmmmmpppppffffff

---

I think I am going to change the style of these blogs into more frequent snippets, considering I now have 24/7 broadband access and am looking for any distraction from this tedious literature review I have to do.

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

I am not a happy bunny at the moment. I will tell you about Khujuraho and The gas disaster and the Sambhavna Clinic, Bhopal where I am volunteering for the next two weeks and am currently residing, another time. When I am a little less grumpy.

I should not really be complaining just because I have to do one piece of written work since June- but that is the problem, my brain has barely had to function for the last six months, so trying to bash out a summary of 24 years of medical research is currently far beyond my attention span. So I take this opportunity to beg for any distraction over the next 13 days, be it by telling me how your little lifes are going. Anything. Please. A facebook message or something. Oh God please.

No its not really that bad, the Clinic is nice and the other volunteers are an interesting bunch of old hippies and political protesters. I will just battle my nemesis which is this literature review, hopefully learn a lot in the process, and be on my merry way again.

So a little story-

It was going relatively swimmingly earlier today- until the internet started to remember it was in India and stopped working. On top of that one of the technologically-phobic old hippies wanted to use the computer and somehow managed to delete my already saved text which took me hours of procrastinating to do. So I was an ickle bit fed up. I thought I would go for a wander around the local area, hopefully to try and find a bank to see if my cards have miraculously decided to work again.

The clinic is in the middle of a poor part of the city, with narrow lanes and overpopulated brick houses- kind of like a glorified slum. This filthy cess-pit of a site was chosen as it is where the MIC toxic gas cloud from the leaky American factory hit hardest on 5 past midnight, 3rd Dec 1984. So the population that are still affected (now showing signs of 3rd generation spread) are right on our doorstep.

On my huffy stride around this area, the thousands of cries of "namaste" "Hi" "How are yuuu" "What is his name" prove to be highly irritating. Now usually I am nice, and shake the millionth hand, say I am fine, I am Jack, I am from England. But when literally fifty children stay saying it, pinch me, and have a sly go at my pockets, I barge on through, head up, shades on, stride quickening. In return I get jeers. Then profane hand signals similar to those used in the West to indicate madam palm and her five beautiful daughters. (I hope that was cryptic enough not to cause offence!)

And then come the stones. Yes, the cheeky little puckers start throwing stones. I hit a dead end, the jeering gets louder, the kids move closer. I am not so sure of the situation now. Through the whole of India so far, particularly areas with fewer tourists, I have only felt people's curiosity and often warmth towards a tall young foreigner, who has come alone to visit their beautiful country. But a stoning is definitely new. I thought maybe I remember the website with the self-explanatory title "how many five year olds can you take on in a fight". These kids are a bit older than that, maybe up to 14, and I am pretty sure even without the stones, if it is genuine animosity, they would be the ones to hedge your bets on.

I turn around and growl at them. They scatter. Phew, just a game then, maybe. I work and weave my way through the lanes to the main road. Where I am sure the barrage of stones will stop. They don't. Instead a sizeable rock bounces off the windshield of a parked bus. I go for the tactic of walking near women (burka-clad in such a Muslim populated city) and children. My pursuers did not risk hitting them with an inaccurately judged missile. A small victory. I considered throwing a stone back, but would feel pretty bad if I got an eye or something, as I am meant to be here to indirectly help these exact people. Oh the irony of the situation. They would know I am from the clinic as it is the only place in the city that has foreigners, being off the tourist trail.

I consider charging in and taking out the ring leader. Boom. That would knock them down a notch or two. But I was not sure if Westerners were universally regarded as American, and Americans associated with Union Carbide, Union Carbide being the owners of the factory which are held directly responsible for the gas leak and death of thousands. Do these children think I killed their grandparents, aunties and uncles? Giving the ring leader a "dead arm" could invite the wrath of thousands of Bhopali's in a furious lynch with murderous intent.

My imagination was clearly getting the better of me so I splashed out on a rickshaw to take me back to the clinic. Here I told Rachna, who I share an "office" with about the Jack-attacks. She didn't laugh it off, instead she looked at me seriously and said "We go now". On the back of her scooter, I was poised for some sort of drive-by, but where I would most likely be the target again. We found them fleeing for their lives from our murderous sights, but not before I pointed out the ring leader, who threw the biggest boulders (okay, stones) and made the crudest gesticulations. In rapid Hindi Rachnu found out his name, family and their home address. We sped back to a house opposite the clinic where we were assured the young lad will be getting a "serious beating" when his father is home from work. I mean an apology was all she asked for, but the mother insisted and said I should have caught him and done it myself! Also, it was good to know that our work as volunteers is greatly appreciated, which is why the kid is in a bit of trouble. Bless him.

Anyway, that has got me out of my mood. Yay. Hopefully I can get this word speed started on my review and bash out the word count which got lost.

Any chat will still be appreciated. xx

---